


Fans From My Previous Life (In The Shadows)

by Lynx_the_Defier



Category: Naruto, 魔道祖师 - 墨香铜臭 | Módào Zǔshī - Mòxiāng Tóngxiù
Genre: Dead characters come to life!, Everyone is a little bit crazy, Hyperactive cinamonn rolls, Karma's not always a bitch (only most of the time), Lazyness is not a bad habit (it's a deadly disease), Multi, Reincrnation, Scheming, Someangst, SometimesCrack, okay there's a lot of angst
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-11-01
Updated: 2020-02-04
Packaged: 2021-01-07 23:26:22
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 12
Words: 19,565
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21225986
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lynx_the_Defier/pseuds/Lynx_the_Defier
Summary: Nie HuaiSang reincarnates as Nara Shikamaru, and is not amused. Though, reflecting on the last years of his life, he rarely felt as such... Hmm... That probably said something about him, hasn't it?Having too much time to think, HuaiSang comes to many conclusions; being an adult in child's form is a horror; Chakra can be more useful than spiritual energy; he will enjoy this life!(Further years of Nara Shikamaru bring forth some porn, many cloud-watching sessions, experimenting with chakra and very confused parents)





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I'll try taking this seriously, but I can't promise anything. Don't even dream about regular updates!  
And, by the way, neither Naruto nor Mo Dao Zu Shi belong to me!

Waking up was not something Nie HuaiSang expected to do. He remembered clearly, closing his eyes with the knowledge that he'll never open them again. Feeling life float out of him. Well, maybe he shouldn't have had so much hope placed in death, after all?

With people being 'brought back' more than once throughout his lifetime, he should have been more wary when it came to the idea of 'eternal rest'.

No rest was _eternal_.

HuaiSang had thought he'll reincarnate, with no memories of his past life. In the best possible scenario. In the worst - haunt his kids and grand-kids as an unsatisfied ghost. And maybe spill some blood, just from pure frustration (after taking care of his fan collection. Which he was sure, he would treasure even as an undead).

Of course neither of his <strike>hopes </strike> predictions was right. What he got was 'the best possible scenario' but with something... extra.

Which made it opposite of 'the best possible'.

Namely; he retained all of his memories - and with them, his sins and guilts.

Great.

As much as he would want to swear the living shit out of this situation, he unwillingly succumbed to sleep, before getting the chance to act. 

Understandably so, as he was still in his mother's womb and his small brain could not handle the strain of full consciousness. Or maybe some of his Nara DNA got to him, and he was just being lazy.

...

He woke up like that a few times.

Each time accepting the situation a little bit more.

He wasn't one to live in denial. If his faith was to reincarnate _and_ remember, he would comply. Though, accepting the fact that he was stuck in a women's womb was hard to get through. Because, yes he realised where he was pretty quickly - and had the urge to throw up at the same time.

It wasn't because he was disgusted, no, rather it felt just incredibly unconformable.

It brought him back to his days as a young men, obliged to marry a women and have kids. Ugh... Having sex with her was not something he would ever be fond of.

HuaiSang was, fully and only, attracted to men.

Unfortunately though, being a Sect Leader, wife was a must. Kids were even more important. With no way to back out of it (if he wasn't the DNA donor the elders would know and that wouldn't be good), he overcame his nature and forced himself (at least for one night) to do it.

Oh, how he praised his wife when it came out they'd have twins and he wouldn't have to do it again! It only added to the fact he liked her. She was very understanding of his nature and never bothered him with her desires. They even came to an agreement, that they could be unfaithful to each other, as long as there wasn't any unwanted consequences (bastard children). With that, he came to appreciate his wife much more.

But, coming back to the present - Huaisang waited with great anticipation to leave this gods forsaken place.

Months passed lazily...

...


	2. More humiliating than the title 'head-shaker'

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> So, basically no one's truly happy. But it's not bad either.

Coming out (not out of the closet, that we'll leave for teenage-hood) was very unpleasant. And when HuaiSang says unpleasant he means 'a-metal-string-in-your-gut' kind of unpleasant. So, yeah... Never again.

When it began, he immediately woke up. The muscles around him squeezed and twitched, tightened and loosened. It was very confusing. And irritating. But who was he to complain? After all, he wasn't the one birthing a human out of his... reproductive organs. Just a thought of such made him shudder.

Though, it could be very useful as a torturing method. Hmm, he needs to check it out on someone later. Much later - he reminded himself, feeling another squeeze.

...

After what seemed like hours of labour, he finally saw light! Nothing much but blurs and fuzzy figures, yet it still was something. Compared to nine months in darkness, yes, it was something. Would be even better if his eyes didn't sting like crazy, and if he didn't feel like shite. With a head pounding as if repeatedly hit by GusuLan's emergency bell (or by the hilt of his brother's sabre) HuaiSang was not in the mood. And when he took his first breath it got even worse.

Now he understood why children wailed so horribly.

He also had the urge to yell and cry. At someone, preferably - his (new) parents, for conceiving him. Really, couldn't this old coot die already? Apparently, he could not, since now he was being cleaned, wrapped in a blanket and given to his (new) mother - not dying. Releasing a painfully long sigh, Nie HuaiSang, the Nie sect leader for the last eight decades, the one to scheme the Yiling Patiarch's return - gave up.

He'll live, alright?! If gods want him so, then he will.

But when he gets to heavens the next time, don't expect him to be nice.

...

At first, even discerning noises around him was hard. Everything seemed too loud, too harsh. Only after a few days did he get used to his mother's and father's voices. The first one was melodic yet rigid. Calming to him, and scolding to almost everybody else. The second one was... Oddly similar to his own, in later years. Used to giving out commands, though unarguably delicate when dealing with family.

Unfortunately, this was the extent of his knowledge at the moment.

Because (damn you faith!), the people were speaking a different language to his own.

Yes, some of the sounds were similar and HuaiSang swore he'd heard a few words he knew, but that was it.

The frustration was even worse than before!

_____

Yoshino wasn't sure what to think of her baby. Of course she loved him and all that, but... Was he supposed to be so quiet? From what everybody knew, he wasn't. And yet, nothing was wrong with him in terms of health.

A thought sprouted in her mind, that the child, being a Nara through and through, could be just too lazy to scream.

Shikaku seemed to think so too, because he didn't look overly worried.

Sighing, Yoshino mourned over her sanity.

One lazy genious in the house was enough.

Two? Well, she'll have to wait and see. Though really, she had a bad feeling about this.


	3. Nightmerish smell of crimson sunflowers

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> HuaiSang doesn't do well with being brought back to life. He doesn't know what to do. Shikaku neither, but he, at least, knows what should be done.  
WARNING! Mild gore and description of suicide.

Mo XuanYu laughed, grabbing his hand. HuaiSang staggered, a metallic taste on his tongue.

"Ge-ge? Are you coming?" Mo XuanYu looked curiously at his sudden state of rigidity. He smiled, and his sunken cheeks raised - that meant he was happy, HuaiSang noted, feeling a pang of pain in his heart. "What happened? Are you scared?"

On that, HuaiSang choked. His breath was cut short as his legs gave out. No, no don't say that - he wanted to protest, but no words came forth. Throat dry like sand in the desert, he coughed painfully. Covering his mouth with his sleeves, HuaiSang tried to turn away from XuanYu. His body refused, retching violently. Blood spilled on his hands.

"Ge-ge?! What's happening?!" XuanYu leaned in, gasping at the growing pool of blood in HuaiSang's palms. Nie HuaiSang cupped them, as if holding water to drink, even when it began dripping on the floor.

"Mo XuanYu..." he rasped out, eyes rising to meet grey orbs staring at him with concern. "I'd die for you, you know that?"

'No! Don't say it! Don't you dare!' HuaiSang's mind supplied, and yet his mouth continued.

"I love you. Do you believe me?"

"Yes! Yes, now ge-ge, it's not time for that! Where's a medic?! A healer, ge-ge! You need a healer!" yelled XuanYu franticly, head snapping left and right.

But now, even his head betrayed him, as he thought:

'It's you who needs one.'

Just as the traitor thought passed, Mo XuanYu froze. His form began thinning, hair matting and eyes glazing. There was no smile on his face, those cheeks more shallow than before. Skin ghostly pale, he stood tall, brave... Fragile. HuaiSang wanted to scream when XuanYu collapsed, bruises appearing on his skin out of nowhere. But he could not move. He could, but didn't, now was too late - Mo XuanYu sat up slowly, shivering. Tears stained his visage, and yet he seemed determined.

'Don't do it, don't do it, don't do it!'

From the folds of his black robes, he took out a blade, gazed at it with consideration and rolled up his sleeves. There was no hesitation as he cut into the skin of his wrist. And Nie HuaiSang was rooted to the floor, limbs unable to work. Unblinkingly, he watched as XuanYu undid his upper garments. His belly collapsed inwards, breasts bare and ribs showing enough for HuaiSang to be able to count them. He put the tip of the blade on the right side of his abdomen. Crimson began dripping, just like the one in HuaiSang's hands, but so much more real. HuaiSang stopped breathing -

Mo XuanYu drove the weapon into his gut - not deep enough to guarantee a quick death, but deadly all the same - and drew a sharp breath through his nose.

"Are you happy, ge-ge?" he asked, voice wavering. "I'd die for you, y'know? I will. I hope we'll meet in the afterlife, ge-ge... If it's not too much o' a hassle."

"XuanYu..." HuaiSang whispered, his lips feeling like stone. "I'm sorry..."

But there was no answer as Mo XuanYu slumped down, lifeless.

...

HuaiSang woke up drenched in sweat. Air seemed to have trouble getting into his lungs, breaths quick and short-lived; he was hyperventilating. 'Breathe' he told himself. 'In and out, in and out.' But before his eyes still stood the image of Mo XuanYu, with blood on his hands and forehead laid on the floor - dead. 'In and out' HuaiSang reminded himself, remembering the glistening of that blade all too well. 'Breathe, for fucks sake!' Yet there he stands, with grey eyes and bloodied robes, a smile on his face that looks awfully fake. 

Crying out in frustration, Huaisang clenched his palm, ready to strike at the wooden frame of his bed. His little hand striked out, but instead of hitting the well known bed-frame it met with bars of a crib. The pain it provided was good - yet unfamiliar. 

'Oh, right. I'm a damn baby now! Fuck you faith! Fuck you!' he cursed in his head and began wailing. The unsteady work of his lungs only increased in franticness, but he did not care. 'At least if I choke and die, there's a chance I won't remember!'

Brightness blinded him a second later, and a fuzzy figure appeared in his line of vision. He cried out, on purpose flinging his limbs. Gurgling of a cornered corpse escaped his throat, as his mother picked him up. She smelled of sunflowers and milk - which was in no way calming, because he wanted to smell something different; old make-up powder and rice, tiniest amount of peonies... Or even the stone still smell of sharpening oil and fire, of earth and anger.

The smell of sunflowers filled his nostrils and pricked at his brain. 'No, no, no, no!'

And so he wailed, his mother futilely trying to shush him. She sang songs and hummed melodies - tried to feed him, for him to fly a small fist at her. She even checked his diaper, for what he kicked like a scared horse. He didn't want to be calm! He wanted to end this, to come back to those happy days... To his small pavilion and his spy-birds, to his brother and his sect. Even to his wife and children. To his seven year old granddaughter, who was so gentle with all his fans. But no.

And than his mother passed him to someone -

They smelt of sharpening oil.

And fire, with a bitter note of ash.

Of green tea, heavily flushed with earth.

Ah.

A gruff but tranquil voice spoke to him. His (new) father. But, he smelled so familiar...

Nie HuaiSang stilled. Tears dripped from his eyes, though he didn't scream any more.

Maybe, just maybe - he'll be able to get used to this new place. Slowly, his breathing came back to normal.

_____

Shikaku was confused. Shikamaru never seriously cried before. He whimpered and whined when he was hungry or needed to be changed, but never outright wailed or screamed. 

So imagine his surprise, when one night, he wakes up to the most blood-curdling howl he heard in a while. Straight on alert, he jumped up from his bed, kunai in hand. The cry subsided, hiccuped and renowned with more energy. Shikamaru was crying.

Yoshino, also on her feet, quickly switched the light on and sped to the crib. It was right next to their bed, so it wasn't long before she cradled the baby to her chest an began lulling it. Or tried, because apparently, ten days of rest is enough - now it's time to wreck the place (as some of his colleagues would say). 

"How troublesome," he grumbled, pretending not to see his wife's glare at the phrase. Really, now he won't be able to peacefully go to sleep, and this was one of his last days off duty! Ugh... Truly troublesome. Putting away the weapon and sliding on his slippers, Shikaku sighed."Want some tea?" he asked, a little louder now.

"Yes, please," she said, trying to feed the tiny monster.

Tiny monster with monstrous lungs. Shikaku winced, leaving the room and heading for their kitchen. Even this far away, he could still hear Shikamaru's scream. He was almost glad that just before his 'holidays' an explosion tag blew up near him and he was still partially deaf. Almost.

...

Coming back with two cups of green tea, Shikaku yawned sleepily. He lingered before the doors to their bedroom, not sure if he wants to risk his hearing any further. He did tell Yoshino he'll make tea... And it's been half an hour since then. Well, there's no way out of this, is there? Still, when he gets the chance he's hitting the covers. 

He entered, to see his wife struggling to keep hold of the baby. Shikamaru was kicking and punching with the fervour of Tora - only the claws and fangs were missing. Shikaku would be proud, if not Yoshino's exasperated and slightly feral expression.

"Can you hold him for a moment?" she greeted him. "I think I'm starting to understand why other mothers complain so much..."

Shikaku hurriedly put away the tea and took Shikamaru out of Yoshino's arms. Her hands were shaking, shoulders and chest red from their son repeatedly hitting them.

The little human, on the other hand... Sniffed, gave one final cry and fell silent.

Shikaku stared, baffled, as Shikamaru settled completely, limbs falling stiff. He gave a twitch from time to time, tears in his eyes, but nothing more.

Yoshino also stared, half a way to the night-stand and tea. She looked beyond relieved, which Shikaku knew didn't bode well for him.

"From now on, you calm him down." she stated and the Jonin Commander sighed.

'I knew it.'

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And yes, I do kinda ship Nie HauiSang with MoXuanYu. Not entirely, but a bit. If you don't like it, don't worry, it isn't a main plot point/couple. Just something that will pop up from time to time.


	4. Energy, and HuaiSnag is face-palming

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Kyuubi being a source of a revelation isn't a common thing. Reincarnation also isn't (wasn't supposed to be!).  
And in the Naruto-verse only one person is supposed to be able to wield spiritual energy. Now, it's two.  


From that memorable day when he broke down, every night ended with a nightmare. And as much as he would deny it, those dreams made him uneasy.

Okay, more than that - they chilled him to the bones. Because he didn't have them in a long time. The sleepless nights of fear he'd left behind together with his youth, and after he turned 50 they were so rare, he was no longer reluctant to fall asleep. After a while he almost forgot he had them, and even when they did come back, the impression they left him with was insignificant.

Now?

Now, he would do everything to get rid of them - even become wrinkly and white-haired again - but no matter how much he pleaded, the gods didn't yield. Every time he fell into slumber, (which was pretty often, considering he was a baby barely two weeks old) he dreamt. All his sins and faults, mended into a lovely, mind-numbing monster.

HuaiSang found, that right now, his favourite thing to do, aside from thinking about his fans, was cursing the fucking hell out of every Nie ancestor he knew the name of. Including his father (may he rest as a headless lunatic - definitely not in peace) and his mother, who was also Nie by blood (may she never find rest in her next reincarnations).

He was very tempted to curse all the other members of his family (cousins, aunts, uncles, etc.) but that would mean he blamed them for his existence, which wouldn't be fair. After all, they also had to suffer their collective ancestry, so...

Anyway, the nightmares sucked.

And he could do shit about them. Not even knock himself out, since he had no such strength.

At least HuaiSang no longer woke up screaming and panicking, like the first time - which he would be embarrassed about to the end of his (hopefully short) life.

Control was the key - the second time he had a nightmare, he kept the screams inside. His new father's presence helped greatly, which he would also never admit. It was always so calm and... stable. Not sloth like, rather like a pleasant summer breeze (wow, that comparison went well) or a tree that somewhat gave out heat (even better; were his literary skills degrading?! Nie HuaiSang, the famous porn writer was forgetting how to write! Agh! He needs to do some exercises to keep his creativity to par...). Close enough to his brother to be soothing. Usually those two things were sufficient, but tonight was different.

First, he woke up drenched in sweat, his temper out for blood. There was this discomfort in his gut, that wasn't present after any of his previous nightmares and it made him sick. HuaiSang ignored it initially, but it grew and grew, until he felt as if his limbs were being squashed and his heart squeezed in the claws of a ferocious corpse. This was not a normal panic attack.

This was negative energy gathering. He felt it curling around, wonder, as if aimlessly, towards his organs, his brain, heart. Slowly trying to melt in with his spiritual energy. And even though he had no golden core, it still hurt. Like someone would pour boiling water into his veins and expect it to blend with blood. But it never blends, it annihilates.

Trying to fight it, HuaiSang almost misses the point when it stops. The energy halts, calm before the storm, and he's concentrating, attempting to push it out - it yields, for a moment - and then attacks anew.

(_Almost like war tactics_ \- he thinks. _But this thing is mindless, it doesn't fight wars. My chance to win is less._)

HuaiSang desperately pulls back, because this energy is too corrosive, he doesn't stand a chance - even with a golden core, he would be too weak. So he try to coax it. _O__ut, _he says, his mind unwavering. He recalls all the ugly things in his life - the deaths, the slaughters, the plots - and tries to use them. His own negativity, nowhere near this (because his alive, damn it!) yet he hopes its enough. He calls again:

_Out._

_My body is already infested, get out._

_I drive this energy, I can drive you too. _

(A mild threat, he knows, but there isn't much better at his disposal)

_I am negative, you can go - infest someone else._

And it works. The energy steps away. Though not sentient, it understand - it doesn't need to go where it already is. Its tendrils unwrap from his limbs, his heart is free from the grasp of this demon... HuaiSang takes a careful breath, but everything seems muddled. Senses fluffy, the men-turned-child sinks into his mind-scape.

It's a horrific place, really, especially now. All the negative energy swirling about instead of the normal, white incense smoke. But he can't banish it, not yet, no.

As HuaiSang walks down the shadowy halls, the black clouds disperse - where he steps, the energy runs - _good_. Then it closes behind him like some kind of morbid veil, filling the space it fled seconds ago. HuaiSang doesn't mind, he doesn't want the energy to touch his mind-self, even if it took his real body. That would be too dangerous.

After all, his mind-self is the manifestation of spirit and mind, it's much purer than any outside body. The negative energy is afraid to touch it, this purity, that could potentially destroy it. HuaiSang knows that this darkness could overwhelm him, yet he doesn't waver. He closes the thought deep down, and pretends that he could purify the negativity.

Eventually, he will need to - it will take a huge amount of time, but HuaiSang knows how to do it. It's just a very long way and if the enemy knew what he was planning, it wouldn't work.

So he smiles and walks through the place with confidence.

...

He settles before a door of remarkable height, reaching somewhere, beyond - HuaiSang doesn't see if it meets the ceiling, the smoke is too thick - and stares. His hand reaches, pauses mid-motion, stutters... and continues. Hesitation is gone in an instant, less than the blink of an eye.

He enters.

The gate opens with a wail of rusty hinges, announcing HuaiSang's arrival. To whom, the men isn't sure. The air inside is musky, heavy and yet pure. No darkness dares to follow, for in there lingers energy. Energy of a cultivator.

HuaiSang basks in this memory of sunlight, warmth enveloping him pleasantly. He closes his eyes and sighs. Shivering under it's touch, he allows himself a thought:

_Maybe this time, I'll become a real, full-fledged cultivator? _

Without the limits of his bloodline, this may be possible. He likes the thought - is reluctant to shut it away, because he doesn't know.

Is he really of another family? Is there truly no risk of Qi deviation taking him too early? Can he do it?

He opens his eyes. This time, he looks around - the room is empty, the windows open onto an endless night with no stars. No moon shines - only darkness. There's no wind either. No indication that anything ever happened here, that this chamber hosted his core once. _A lonely place_, HuaiSnag muses, striding to the window opposite to the door. The floor creaks under his feet, (like nowhere else in his mind-scape) shooting through the silence violently.

Brushing the dust from the windowsill, he hums to himself. If he wants to use this place he'll need to clean it first.

...

Much later, after all the dust was swiped, HuaiSang plops down in the middle of the room. The wood whines under him until he stops moving, legs crossed and eyes fixed on the eternal black outside. The door behind him closes, slowly clicking into place - its wail echoes in HuaiSang's ears, like a bark of an obedient dog.

He cuts off the negative energy. It never reached this chamber, sacred shrine of his. Smiling, amusement is evident in his features.

Then, HuaiSang begins -

_Focus,_

_The divine spirit isn't gone, it's still here._

_Where?_

...

He exits only when he's sure the corrosive monstrosity outside is no more. It's easy to feel, as right now he is a beacon of negativity, instead of a drop of water in the sea. He surfaces to see the blurred figure of his new mother (he can recognize her by the almost-black mop of hair spilling down her shoulders, and her pale skin. His father is much more tan, with greyish hair tied back and a goatee).

Immediately after, HuaiSang realises that something is wrong - there are too many noises and voices around, for him to be safe and at home. Especially since many of those voices were loud, scared and definitely too loud for him to be okay with them. 

_Annoying. _

But then he paused. These people knew something malicious was here and lived. That can mean only one thing; A cultivator! HuaiSang's eyes sparkled. He reached out with his senses - which weren't at all rusty, even though he haven't used them in a few months! - and blanched.

_No, no, no... No human can have such fucked up energy levels!_

Hastily retreating, HuaiSang took an enormous breath. What the fuck? Those man shouldn't be even able to even exist! He spluttered mentally, and tried to calm himself. _It's okay HuaiSang, you're confused. You must have mistaken **that** for something else, surely, now get your ass down there, and don't be a coward!_

Carefully, the men let his senses flood the space around him... And again had the urge to spit blood.

At the edges of his awareness, there lingered multiple individuals with an impossible ratio of physical and spiritual energy.

In a normal person, it would be 1:1, maybe a little unbalanced, taking in account the person's occupation, bloodline or beliefs. But the difference would be almost non-existent. In a cultivator, on the other hand, there would be 1:2 or maximum 1:5 (spiritual energy being in abundance), because they cultivated. Obviously. But, HuaiSang never saw monstrosities such as these!

The ratio he read was either wrong (his sensed didn't lie - he knew, and didn't want to lie to himself, but...) or the people were walking fucking mountains!

10:1! That's what he read! And that was just the beginning!

Spreading his senses further, HuaiSang was left speechless. His mind took a turn in the wrong direction and hit a pole. Then, fell on the hard ground and got a concussion. After that, suffered a heart attack. Just because.

...

HuaiSang's shock was understandable - he'd never encountered a shinobi in his last life. It is important to note, that between the cultivators, nobody ever cultivated physical energy - not only because it couldn't give immortality, but also because it was thought of as very... Dirty, animalistic even. Pristine cultivators would never lower themselves to messing with their chakra (not that they called it that), even if they knew how to.

Our reincarnated head-shaker, was not one of them. He experimented with the energy, when as a young sect leader he still couldn't not risk a Qi deviation while cultivating 'normally'. The interest was brief and hadn't brought much effects, so HuaiSang gave up, continuing on other projects. He thought it was impossible to cultivate chakra.

Well, now, he knew he was wrong.

Very wrong. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I do hope it isn't boring. I just kinda... flew away with the descriptives? There's not much development happening, but believe me, this is important!


	5. Chakra. Simply, hellishly; Chakra.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> HuaiSang sees (senses) chakra. HuaiSang wants chakra.  
In other words - How to sway a cultivator?

For a while, HuaiSang pretends he saw nothing. Heard nothing, sensed nothing and remembered nothing.

Because if he didn't pretend, it would mean that his world just toppled over and he crashed into fluffy clouds of steam, damn it! Or, more accurately: Discovered physical energy. Maybe not discovered, since he knew of its existence for a time now. Rather, discovered its possibilities. The power it could give. And that he abandoned the thought of it so quickly, in his past life. 

And that would mark him as a fool. He didn't like that label, no - not when he is forced to admit it himself.

Oh, fuck it! He can be the blindest fool of them all, if it means he can cultivate it!

...

In his haste, HuaiSang totally forgot about his nightmares. He tried to keep up with all the not-cultivators-but-still-amazing people going around, and stretched his sense to the maximum. It left him exhausted, but at some point he just began cackling and couldn't get down from his high. He didn't even care if he laughed outwardly or not.

So, when his mind slipped into unconsciousness, some time later, HuaiSang was too excited to take note of it. He fell asleep with weak chuckles still parting his lips.

...

"HuaiSang?" Jin GuangYao's eyes latched onto him, his friendly smile ever so sweet.

"Ge?" Nie HuaiSang croaked out, feeling immensely confused.

"What happened? I gather you wouldn't be here looking like a mouse running from a cat if everything was alright," The chief cultivator gently placed his hand on HuaiSang's arm and began driving the teen forward. "Do you need my advice? Or maybe ZeWu-Jun's? Unfortunately he's not here at the moment. Oh, but I can call him for you. I'm sure that whatever bothers you we'll be able to solve it. Eh?"

"Yes..." HuaiSang nodded, channelling his inner shyness. "Thank you, Ge."

"You're welcome."

Before the teen so much as blinked, they were both seated at a table, tea steaming between them and chimes playing outside the window. Something about this felt terribly wrong, but HuaiSang couldn't pinpoint what.

"So? Is it about the ghouls seen near your borders? Or maybe someone..." Jin GuangYao trailed off, flicking his fan pointedly. His steady gaze searched HuaiSang for answers, but the new Nie sect leader was like fish out of water; unable to say anything.

"No - I mean, umm... - Yes, but - not. Not exactly?" HuaiSang averted his gaze and cringed internally. Even he knew his meekness was unhelpful.

"Oh, do we need Older Brother, then? I'll prepare the messenger hawk straight away." The short men tensed to get up, still looking at HuaiSang questioningly. Faint amusement danced in the features of his face.

"Y-yes, thank you, Ge!" Stuttering, the teen bit his lip. Jin GuangYao stood gracefully and strode away - HuaiSang stared at his back, getting smaller and smaller, sinking into the horizon. The golden robes flashed one last time and dispersed, eaten by the setting sun.

The Sect leader was standing on a lonely road, dust settling slowly. He turned around, now facing the blackening sky. Stars crept up, higher with every minute. HuaiSang watched, his mouth set into a grim line. With legs unmarked by age nor experience, he stepped into the darkness. Each step took him further up the pebbled path, crickets buzzing in the bushes and owls hooting within the forest.

He didn't know how long he walked like that, but eventually, deep into the night, he saw a statue standing tall in a spacious clearing. His path ended where the treeline cut, replaced with golden weeds, reaching no less than to his waist. They surrounded the stone figure like a moat, deep and dangerous.

Dividing them with his hands, HuaiSang sank into the field, determined to reach the statue. The pretty women watched as he moved, her rock-smile softening. Dread filled HuaiSang's heart, as he got closer to the figure - at her feet, on the pedestal, laid a head. Its long hair pulled down like tangled silk, greenish skin criss-crossed with thick veins. Even in the sparse light of the moon, its eyes were perfectly visible, stagnant like stone on which it rested, and sharp - a sabre which the person wielded. 

Nie MingJue.

"Brother?" The teen whispered, hands reaching out to the head shakily.

"Oh, here you are!"

HuaiSang whirled around, owner of the voice standing not even two metres away. Jin GuangYao. Next to him a white clad men, taller than both of them, but of plots much lesser. You could see the happiness in his features, only slightly overshadowed by worry.

"HuaiSang. I've heard you need my help." Said Lan XiChen, words oh so kind. He stepped towards him, JinGuangYao at his back. And suddenly -

"Behind you!" the teen shouted, and there was a sword in XiChen's hand. Embodied into the golden robes, turning them crimson, and they were no longer in a field.

A temple.

"HuaiSang, so it was you..." Jin GuangYao coughed bloodily, his gaze travelling between the cultivators before him. The gold collapsed, and the merry men was no longer.

Pools of red spilled on wooden tiles. Jin GuangYao's breath was uneven, lungs filling with liquid. Lan XiChan fell on his knees next to his friend, and holding a hand already cold, he prolonged the silence. Eventually though, quiet sobs ripped through it, worse than a knife to HuaiSang's heart. Head hung low, the righteous men cried:

"Why?! Why have I killed him?!"

HuaiSang couldn't bare the sight. He averted his gaze, which instead fell on the goddess, still as unmoving as the first time he saw her. But now, at her feet there was nothing - only a brown stain. Suddenly, there was also no statue. Pulse quickening, HuaiSang turned to XiChen - 

He was not there.

Only a bloody corpse.

...

No giddiness was left in HuaiSang when he woke up. There was just resolve - heavy and unsettling, but the men-turned-baby grasped it readily. 

No time to grieve the lost.

He will make sure there'll be no more lost to grieve about.

...

Understanding flooded HuaiSang as if a tame broke. That's why he wasn't able to successfully cultivate physical energy before! He thought that it will need a focus-point, like spiritual energy, when in reality, there was no need for that. Physical energy was more connected to the body, and so, easier to grasp and wield. Unlike is counterpart, which was only partially attached to the physical aspect of being and therefore almost impossible to get hold of without a core. 

Excitement bubbled in HuaiSang's stomach, his senses tingling from overuse. And yet he didn't call them back, instead again focusing on his 'victim'. The men emanated a very pressuring aura, his physical energy tightly wounded inside his body, held with an iron grip. There were no leaks of energy which HuaiSang observed in others, no twitches indicating emotion (and what a surprise was it, that physical energy conveys emotion!) nor wasting the energy when using it. A life saver, truly! By now, our reincarnated head-shaker could tell how admirable the men's control was - compared to everybody else, he was a master. And maybe he indeed was, just HuaiSang had no way of knowing it.

But, the point was that there was no core in any of those non-cultivators. Well, at least that were HuaiSang's conclusions after watching them for more than two weeks. At first he was unsure. The physical energy ran through them, gathering in few points - they were too weak to spell 'core' but he had his doubts. Because maybe, the cores of physical energy were different? As it turned out, there was no cores - thanks to the 'master's tight hold of his energy, HuaiSang was able to tell what the 'gathering points' truly were - similar to meridians, only in slightly different places. Not cores. 

An incredulous laugh almost made its way through HuaiSang's throat. 

This will be much easier than he thought.


	6. Head-shakers have talent! Huh... Who would have guessed?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Miscalculation.

HuaiSang did not remember the last time he was so well rested. When he was yet the Sect Leader, maybe. He stretched out as much as his cumbersome body allowed and after a jaw-breaking yawn, sank into his mind-scape. 

Opening his eyes reviled the same long corridor as always - slightly dimmed by the grey fog, but decidedly not swivelled with darkness. HuaiSang smiled, allowing himself a rare moment of self-appreciation. Ahh... It's been five weeks since that incident, and almost all negative energy vanished. Good, soon he'll start cultivating.

His expression became sharper, something fuelled by desire. Messing with his physical energy proved beneficial on many fronts; first, was that, apparently, knowing the channels in which the energy flowed gave you an immense awareness of your own body. More detailed than spending hours meditating, it gave HuaiSang the scalpel precise image of what was inside of him. He did get a backlash the first time he did such an... integrating exercise, but could very much see the usefulness of this ability, so did not complain.

Second, was that, after he got to know his physical energy channels, he could control his body much better. Every muscle was at his command - if he focused enough, that is. And if he sent there his physical energy, the chosen part of his body would get much stronger. The first time he experimented with disturbing his energy flow, he accidentally gathered energy in his elbow. It began feeling heavy and... itchy, and so he wanted to scratch it. The material beneath him tore when touched by his arm - he heard the slow noise of tearing fabric, and a shiver ran up his spine. Further experimentation showed that not only did things stick to him when he gathered his energy, but they also could be strengthened.

That was yesterday. In the thirty minutes he played with the energy, HuaiSang completely exhausted himself! The tiredness was so deep, that he did not have any nightmares! What a truly useful thing!

Laughing indulgently, HuaiSang walked through the hallway. Floor under his feet was polished, and the walls dark green. He passed by a few doors and windows (still looking out on the starless sky) until he found his destination. This entrance was the sliding kind - made of rice paper, printed with silhouettes of birds and patterns of clouds. With gentle hands, HuaiSang slid them to the right, opening a treasure chest.

Well, not really, but...

The room was small yet cosy, walls a warm brown, candles burning even warmer flames. On both sides of the room were desks and shelves, cabinets and wardrobes. And on them all, laid sprawled items of every nature - trinkets and gifts, clothes, blades, fans and books. Scrolls took most of the shelves and even the floor was covered with stocks of paper. Even the big, silk pillow in one corner was taken by a tower of notepads.

His memories.

HuaiSang sighed, stifling the urge to clean it all, to make it nice and orderly. That was one thing he would not do today. And hopefully never.

...

Wincing, he knocked the notepads down. They spilled on the floor like a wave, vacating the pillow. He plopped down on it, rising a puff of dust. Three scrolls in his hands, he unrolled the first one and began reading. There was a purpose in coming here, after all.

...

What felt like hours later, HuaiSang was filled with re-remembered information. All that he ever read on physical energy was newly settled into the forefront of his brain, swirling impatiently.

_Okay._

A flutter of images dashed behind his eyelids, making HuaiSang quizzy.

_Okay. Huh, I have not known I've read that scroll... Well, evidently, I have. _

_Ugh!_

Pain pierced through his mind, world whirling around him. Everything seemed to collapse, before coming back to its righteous place. HuaiSang, although not surprised, was no less irritated. Can't he handle even this slight change in memory?

_No._

He thought, just in the moment his vision went black.

...

Even waking up with an incessant headache was better than nightmares, HuaiSang discovered. Additionally, the visit in his memory lane wasn't pointless. He did recover some information of which he forgot. Small notes about physical energy he skipped over like a hurricane or something he overlooked as unimportant - though now it made sense.

Like, for example, the mad rumblings of the YiLing Patriarch, four topics entangled into one. Notes scribbled on every available space in the notebook, messy scrawl. Hard to decipher - to read through, as slowly you also start to descend into madness, infected - but unsurpassed in their genius. Few of the margin debates Wei WuXian had with himself barely made it into HuaiSang's eyes. But his brain saw it, saved it. And now they were useful.

_"Can physical energy disturb negative energy's flow?" _it began _"It can disturb life energy, why not negative? Of course that would clash with the HanHu theory, but also suit my recent discoveries. Bodily harm can cause a swell in negative energy, as well as make it leak - if the wounds are deadly - but can it stop it?" _the notes were riddled with mistakes and crossed out signs, but still readable.

_"Theoretically, such things work in both ways, but... I cannot be sure. What if the harm done was self inflicted or connected with positive thoughts? What if done while feeling pleasure? Will it help purge negative energy?" _two pages later the notes continued, this time written by a struggling hand, not by a careless writer.

_"I have tried my theory in practice - while reading a pleasing material and feeling arousal I'd cut into my wrist three times. My intentions were scientific and not negative, though I am probably not the best test subject for this. The results were rather mild - the cut I made did not fester with negative energy, and yet did not affect the one inside my body. I tired doing it again, this time feeding myself happiness-inducing drug. I've also cut deeper, not to the bone (Wen Qing would kill me), but enough to severe muscle. The effects differed only slightly. The flow of negative energy to my right hand was marginally shallower than in my other hand." _the notes continued like that for the whole notebook, written sparsely, with breaks raging in the span of few days to the span of a month.

HuaiSang breathed the madness and the desire to discover like air. Especially since the conclusions, tests and theories the men had drawn were invaluable. Maybe not everything HuaiSang was ready to put into practice, but...

Who knows when it might be useful?

...

His eyes had began to clear. Now, he could finally see the faces of his new parents, though he'd gotten good at recognizing them from specific blobs of colour. If he must be truthful with himself, it's been a relief to know that he wont be half-blind for the rest of his life.

Though, the first weeks were quite beneficial for his sensing skills (not that they were very lacking, but)._ Hmm... I might employ temporary blindness as training later..._

Well, the first weeks after he got the great idea to even use his sense. Because, and HuaiSang's ashamed to admit it, the thing hadn't occurred to him before that. He's been so busy grieving, brooding and planning his own death that everything else escaped his notice. Ups?

But, ignoring that big-like-a-fucking-thousand-step-staircase problem, our head-shaker is quite pleased with himself.

_I might not even kill myself in the next year! What a surprising thought to have..._

_______

Everyone was still subdued. The attack happened a few weeks ago, and yet the energy did not come back to the village.

Civilians seemed stuck in the permanent state of grieving, so similar to the aftermath of the Third Shinobi War, that Shikaku got The Creeps while walking the streets (and yes, this feeling needs capitalising, in his opinion). They, although actively assisting in the rebuilding of their home, were uncharacteristically quiet. As in, timed-explosive-tag-which-has-yet-to-blow-up quiet. Shikaku was unwillingly on high alert because of that - something whispered into his ear that a catastrophe was coming, that the silence and sadness was unnatural. And, bearing the political uproar the Kyuubi attack had brought, maybe this 'something' wasn't entirely wrong.

And, if the civilians gave him The Creeps, the shinobi... Oh, the shinobi. They fed his paranoia. With unadulterated, malicious glee.

As a Jonin Commander, he had the task to know his subordinates. To interact with them, lead them. But, honestly, with everything going to hell, this job became even more strenuous than it originally was. 

"How troublesome..."

Shikaku banged his head on the desk, the pen in his hand snapping. Taking deep breaths, eventually he looked up, bags under his eyes. Slowly, he wiped the haze out of his gaze and discharged the broken tool into the bin. Blue ink covered his fingers, dripping on the report laid out on the desk. For a second it was the colour of blood -

brown gathering under his nails, red flowing down his forearm, to his elbow, staining his uniform.

_No. _

Counting to ten, the ink sluggishly became blue once again. He sighed.

_A session with Inoichi is due._

(When he came out of his study room to wash up, Yoshino had the compassion to not point out the smears of indigo on his face. What a considering wife he had.) 


	7. Bathing in blood with a smile

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bad stuff that had happened when HuaiSang was young.

Right now, language barrier was the worst problem HuaiSang was dealing with. The fact that he _couldn't understand_ infuriating him to no end. Inability to speak was also annoying, but not as much - even if he knew the language, his speech would be impaired. Damn the baby tongue which lacked muscles to say a thing!

HuaiSang did everything he could to learn the new language - he wasn't an idiot, after all - but in his situation it was kinda hard.

Actually, who was he fooling? It's fucking impossible!

First and foremost, he's a baby. People don't speak to babies normally, don't treat them like a person who can seriously think on their own. Of course he'd been shown some children books already, and his mother was insistent on mimicking every fucking animal that got in their way, but... That did not help.

Secondly, no one teaches a babe a language as they would a foreigner - they don't expect it to be in need of translation or adjusting to the change in fluidity, intonation, accent and articulation. They expect the baby to soak everything like a sponge, to take it in stride with no struggle of someone who speaks already a language completely different.

But here he is, understanding almost nothing. He thinks he knows how they named him, though HuaiSang can't be sure if it isn't just a language feature/quirk that is repeated often. It sounds sharp, and long, and even if he had his older body, HuaiSang muses, he wouldn't be able to pronounce it properly on his first try. 

_Shikamaru_ \- if his memory's right.

_Sorry_, he thinks to his new parents, _But I'll gladly stay by my old name for now._

He's HuaiSang through and through.

Nie HuaiSang, not _Shikamaru._

_..._

Bathing was inevitable, HuaiSang knew.

Every single damn time was a scarring experience. He dreaded baths, not because he didn't want to be cleaned - rather, he likes being clean, thank you very much - but because he couldn't do it by himself.

The first time, it's been a rough hospital wash. Which he hardly registered, because of his screaming senses.

The second time though, had already taken place at home. His new mother dipped him into a tub of warm water and slowly proceeded to clean him with scentless soap. Tense like a chord, HuaiSang didn't even last a minute. He made a hasty retreat to his mind-scape.

The third time, HuaiSang's bravery was quickly proven false - his retreat took place when the women undressed him.

The rest of his encounters with _bath time_, were largely the same. As cowardly as this behaviour was, HuaiSang never claimed to not be a coward. He'll very gladly bare that moniker if it meant no more forced bathing. Yet, lady luck seemed adamant at making him miserable - last time he bathed, things did not go his way...

His day was normal, some experimenting with physical energy, building up the foundation for his core and cleansing his insides with as much divine energy as he could muster to use (which was little). This all tired him out, and feeling ready for sleep, he barely noticed that his new mother began to prepare him for a bath. When he did, oh it was too late. He was already naked, being carried in the secure grip of his father to the bathing room (_they must be really rich to afford a separate room for that_ \- HuaiSang noted, half asleep). Wait... His father's? _No._

The men turned child began to wiggle, fear sipping into his mind. Why now of all times? And why _he _instead of the women?

Now, when he couldn't enter his head-space without disturbing the vacuuming of energy needed for his core. HuaiSang considered coming there anyway - he'll lose nearly a month of work, but won't be present for this nightmare - yet decided against it. This was the first bottleneck in cultivation, if he back peddles now, it will mean going back an entire three weeks worth of effort. He wasn't about to destroy his dream.

With this in thought, the men focused on his breathing. In and out. In and out. Calm down.

...

He haven't hyperventilated only because breathing exercises were his life. Currently, HuaiSang was evading death by lack of air just by sheer habit. There's no more 'In and out's resounding in his brain. There's nothing. Silence. There's nothing but animalistic fear -

No fight.

No flight.

Freeze. Rabbit's heartbeat in his chest, HuaiSang did not notice when everything was over. When they dressed him and put into the crib. When the lights in the room dimmed, and when the voices of his parents became distant. He did not move, not even a blink. Until -

His eyes were stinging. The world was blurry, unfocused. There were wet tracks on his temples, new tears tickling his ears. 

_Ah._

...

HuaiSang was sitting in a tub full of water. The room provided for him was small but luxurious, high up the Koi Tower. Closer to the stars. His gaze travelled to the opened window, where the moon looked upon him. The white orb sat there, surrounded by clouds, ominous. Full moon.

He knew something would happen tonight.

_But not this._ Again, the boy's eyes travelled - down, down, down, crashing on his prepubescent body submerged in liquid. In blood. His thin wrists were already bruising, the feeling of ropes constant. _As if it never ended. _He was sure that there was a lot more marks on his body than that, but these were the easiest to see. _Cover them. _HuaiSang doesn't know if his normal clothes would suffice, or if he'll need to make a change in wardrobe. He doesn't know if he'll need to bandage anything, or, if that were the case, if his non-existent medical skills would be enough. He thinks there's no open wounds on him - he doesn't know. He knows nothing.

He feels nothing.

Or, he doesn't want to feel. Because if he did... He _knows_ what would happen then. And that it wouldn't be good.

So, when HuaiSang rises his head, his expression is blank. When he sees his image in the tall mirror before him, he doesn't blanch. Doesn't think _disgusting _or _pitiful. _Instead, he stares into his own eyes, not dull like he would prefer them to be, but livid with fear. And remembers how that men looked at him in a similar way. HuaiSang was not permitted to look back, yet he did - The Sect Leader smiled at him, not scolding, and HuaiSang felt safe (he wasn't) - as he does now. The gaze unnerves him, so young, so fierce. He isn't.

His reflection leans back, tilts it's mop of short hair (a _disgrace_) and shifts. Its body grows, flexes, shivers. Then wrinkles and withers, right before his eyes. The hair doesn't grow, even when white weaves into them, takes over.

The men in the mirror looks regal, though still marked a disgrace and with bruises on his wrists. His features are old and wise, almost unrecognisable for the boy who sat alone in a bath full o blood. But he knows that face too well - after all, he has a mirror in his bedroom.

Suddenly, the elder smiles. Venomous.

HuaiSang's cheeks hurt from the smile, but he doesn't stop. The image seems unhinged, yet there's excessively much sanity in its eyes to call it mad. He would prefer to be.

That intelligence on the brink of madness reminds him too much of -

...

HuaiSang wakes, wishing himself to not remember.

...

Together with sunrise, greets him the feeling of divine. It lasts only a few seconds, but the high is unmistakable. After the last sleepless hours, HuaiSang's oddly refreshed. Not happy, no... But there's brightness ahead, no matter if on the horizon or in his future. Wasting no more time, he drowns in his mind-scape.

...

There's an iron chest deep in his subconsciousness. It's closed by lead shackles and padlocks only he has keys to. It reeks of bile, shit and corpses. A battlefield and a cemetery at once. Because, there buried are things he hates, that fight for freedom to rage in him. To drive him mad. If let out, he wouldn't hesitate to bring a blade to his throat any longer.

The cursed chest shudders at his closeness, excited. Even when HuaiSang glares at it, it's not intimidated.

A jiggle of chains resounds in the stony darkness - the thing dares to laugh at him! Its mocking is conveyed in a series of jingles and whines, that bore into HuaiSang's brain like screws. He grits his teeth and barks out:

"Shut up!"

A laughter like scream is his answer. He growls at it and closes the distance between them. It almost jumps in joy.

HuaiSang, in turn, inspects each and every lock. The first ten is closed shut, nothing abnormal about them. _It's to lull him into a false sense of security. _Only then it goes downhill. The eleventh padlock is open - it's small, the chain it joins no wider than a twig. _Nothing much_, that's what the chest wants him to think. He won't be fooled. The sleeves of his robes are spacious, but finally HuaiSang finds the right key.

When it clicks into place, the metal box falls silent. It's as furious a gesture as it's previous quips were.

HuaiSang smirks.

...

After checking a thousand padlocks, HuaiSang is exhausted. Especially since he closed fifty-three of them.

Even tripping with tiredness, he feels lighter.

_No more nightmares._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Never understood how the characters in fan-fiction learn a new language so quickly. I can accept 'just magic' or 'the character was originally described as a genius and it's okay if he/she learns a language in a few weeks' kinda explanation but if those aren't noticeably present, I'm reluctant to believe such a feat would be possible. At least in a realistic setting.  
So, HuaiSang struggles, will struggle and probably won't cease to struggle until he's much older.  
Also -  
I've been always frustrated by the fact that characters, after their displacement in time and space/reincarnation easily give up their old names. Like: "Ha! I've been ....... (enter the original name of the character) my whole life, but now I am ....... (enter the imaginary name for the character)! I will never refer to myself by my old name again! *doesn't feel even a pang of guilt or nostalgia or whatever* And from now on, I will also behave very OOC and you can't say anything!"  
Well, it can be handled correctly, in skilful hands, but most cases don't belong to such. So, don't expect it in this fic - at least not directly.


	8. Time inconcistencies! Everyone loves them! (In which HuaiSang doesn't despair)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> First some Shikaku. Than add a dash of Yoshino. Mix together. At the end, dump a spoonful of burnt HuaiSang on the top. Eat raw.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I kinda created an OC? Not really, but... I gave Chouji's mum a name - Suzuka. Maybe not very creative, but sufficient enough. And, from what I know, in the anime her name was never mentioned, so I gave myself a pass to create something. Good enough excuse, isn't it?

_____

Shikaku's extremely happy. Extremely. Look at him, he's jumping in joy! Oh, no, that's just a sprained ankle...

**Few hours earlier...**

Shikaku thinks he would rather prefer the Nara compound be destroyed. _It would certainly be much less work than this_. Sighing, he signs off another paper. And another, and another. He doesn't even read them all that much. _But no, _he clicks his tongue, _it had to be the other two. _Yamanaka and Akimichi. Their compounds were destroyed instead - closer to the middle of the village, got stomped on by the Kyuubi. And, even though there were little causalities, the compounds were completely obliterated. The destruction was so throughout, that recovery wasn't foreseen to happen in the next year.

And now, all those clansmen had nowhere to go. So, as a good friend and a trusted ally, Shikaku had the responsibility to offer them shelter. Which drives us to his current occupation; signing off the petitions of Yamanaka and Akimichi who wanted to get a temporary housing at his compound.

Don't misunderstand him - he doesn't give a fuck about the formalities. He would house them even without those, which truthfully, he was doing for the past two months. But, as the archives were already fine and dandy (read: stuck together with duck-tape and glue), they demanded a formalisation of his actions. Including helping the Akimichi and Yamanaka.

_Ugh. Just ugh. _

_Damn paperwork._

_..._

He was half a way in putting the form away, when he saw a glaring offence. It had no signature of Choza. The blank space above his name seemed to taunt him. Hungrily, Shikaku licks his dry lips and feigning annoyance shakes his head.

"This simply cannot be," the words sounded very fake in his mouth, coloured by a giddy note.

Shikaku's eyes sparkled, and cheeks twitched. _Time for a break. _Stretching, he got up and with his ticket to freedom firmly in hand, skipped out of his study room. There was a clear hitch to his step, but Shikaku doesn't care.

_Free!_

...

After leaving the form on the kitchen counter for Choza to find, Shikaku left the house all together. It was almost empty at the moment, but you never knew when Yoshino might come home. Though, right now she was supposedly at some 'Matriarch Meeting' together with Suzuka and the kids. Lets hope it will take a while...

Sitting on the porch, he watched the night clouds with wonder. Dark shapes sped across the sky, pushed by cold winds of late winter. Stars dotted around, gathered in groups where the clouds were absent. It reminded him of the house, currently - busy, gloomy and with very few chances to see hope. Inoichi was grieving, Choza's restlessness seeped into everyone, and Shikaku had no time for anything. There were three babies 'round and about, one of them constantly hungry, one incessantly screaming and the other having the weirdest sleeping patterns Shikaku ever saw.

But what was the alternative? Make his friends stay at some cots, while he enjoyed peace in his big-ass Clan Head house? Never. Especially since Inoichi's state was not the best. Shikaku sincerely doubts the men would last very long without them. Enough with his wife recently deceased, but what about Ino? The little beast didn't give him any rest, and that stupid Yamanaka, being the overprotective father he is, would rather die from starvation than leave her alone. The first night Inoichi crashed at his place, Yoshino almost wrestled Ino out of his arms - he was barely standing, eyes red and droopy. His protests were hushed by a frying pan to the head.

The next day bought a very regretful Inoichi.

_Well, at least he knew that it wasn't okay..._

Catching himself yawning, Shikaku bolted upright. Napping was not an option! If he goes to sleep now, he'll probably slumber until tomorrow. The lazy prick he was, Shikaku was still a Clan Head - in other words, knew his responsibilities.

_Ehh... Should I even bother? _

_Yeah, probably. _

Coming to that conclusion, the Nara got up. 

_..._

Shikaku finally had the time to relax. Strolling in the Nara forest like he owned it (he did), the men felt a weight lift off of his shoulders. With a deep breath of the forest air, he latched his gaze onto the sky. Beautiful. His steps were slow but stea-

Whoa!

_Fuck._

_..._

Limping back to his house was not the worst part.

"Shikaku! Your ankle!" shouted Yoshino from across the little garden growing behind his house.

"Don't you say?" he snapped sarcastically.

"What happened?" her tone, from worried changed into steel-hard. Her eyes darted around in search of a possible threat - it would amuse Shikaku quite much, if he wasn't humiliating himself right now.

"I... Tripped."

_____

From the time HuaiSang locked The Chest, his nightmares became a lot less drastic. And the ones he absolutely didn't want to have, weren't there. Which was good. The only thing he was sour about, was the fact that it was his mistake that forced him to intervene. 

Because, you see, when he tried to fight off the darkness from few month ago, he needed to use his own negative energy to do it. And, the biggest source of negativity in him, was, you guessed it, The Chest. And to use it, he needed it opened. So he did. Or rather - ripped out half of the locks, allowing the negative energy to seep out.

After the crisis settled, he repaired them, but evidently... committed some mishaps along the way. Fair enough, since even now his mind self wasn't completely healed after the incident. Weakened like that, mistakes were sure to happen. But, of such calibre - if he didn't catch it in time, well, it would be much worse. _That's what you get for ignoring your own problems._ In his defence, it was easy to ignore them - the damage was something he wouldn't see without a mirror, and the pain he could deal with quite expertly. Additionally, he did acknowledge the problem. Just... Ignored it.

_The moment of truth is here._

He thought, slowly sliding the hand from his eyes. Peaking through his lashes, HuaiSang looked at the reflection. _Agh! _Vomit raised up to his throat, making him consider if ignorance was truly a bliss. HuaiSang no longer looked human - there, it the mirror, sat a scorched corpse, bloody from head to toe. His robes were dangling in pieces, worse than a beggar's. His hair, which previously was long and silky, now laid blackened on the sides of his face. Turning his head around, he could see patches of bare flesh on his scalp, as well as the white of bones sticking out of his right shoulder.

He knew he was a bit burnt.

...

The healing of his mind-self would take a while. Though, in a way, it was already healing. Cultivating divine energy would help the spirit part of his persona - he was in the process of building up his core. Although it would go faster if he had his core all and done. Well, nothing he can do about it, is there?

Or... He could cultivate more. That would speed up the healing, give him his cultivation back faster and create more divine energy so he could cleanse his mind.

Shrugging (_after_ averting his eyes from the mirror), HuaiSang resigned himself to spending even more time in his mind-scape. His study of physical energy would suffer. As well as language. Also, his real body would deteriorate. _Great, simply fabulous. This old men can't get even a slither of peace, can he?! Though, it's my fault, so... _

Sacrifices. Go figure.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Have you caught the thing about hair? Anyone?


	9. At this rate...

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Don't mention the bad stuff, don't mention the bad stuff... Crap. A bit filler-y. There's an information dump up front, so watch out.

**A year later...**

The one thing HuaiSang was very proud of, were his sensing skills. In his original life, that had been the first thing that really worked for him - no risk of heightening the probability of getting a Qi Deviation, no need for physical exercise - it was just perfect. It fit him. And surprisingly, he was good at sensing. After the few initial years of struggle, HuaiSang could call himself a decent sensor. Or, so he thought.

Because right now, he knew how inaccurate that was. All the little titbits he'd missed back then! For example, the movement of energy in someone. He could somewhat tell, as an old bastard, but it still was nothing compared to what he could sense now. That each energy, of each person, has it's own personal rhythm, a flow and intensity. That no energy was the same and, that, most unexpectedly, physical energy _always_ moved. Unlike spiritual energy, which was more stagnant, physical energy was diluted, unstable. Erratic.

Which was interesting, for a bookworm like HuaiSang. Every scroll he'd ever read on physical energy, said that it was just a tainted variation of spiritual energy. That it originated in the divine - in the spirit - but was stained by earthy desires, wasn't unending. Was the 'bodily' part of a person. None of them specified what this 'tainted' meant, nor how exactly it makes the physical energy different.

Now, HuaiSang could disprove some of their claims and explain another. Like the difference in movement, or the fact that indeed, physical energy fed on the soul. 'Fed' sounds kind of forceful, but he knew it to be the complete opposite. The process was natural - when physical energy was used, the spiritual energy worked to replace it. It flew through special channels (the meridians) to the body and in the same time became physical.

And here, is the biggest mistake the ancient philosophers made - they wrote that as the person aged, their physical energy became even more tainted, breaking the body apart from inside and making it impossible for spiritual energy to replace it. When their last bouts of the replaced energy ended, the body died, ceasing the connection with the soul, and therefore resulting in the end of said person's life. But that was not right. As HuaiSang observed the people of this place, he saw that even those whose physical energy was aged, were still using it and replacing at the same pace. The spiritual energy had no problem in making up what was lost.

The reason for death lay somewhere else. In the meridians. _They_ were using up. When spiritual energy flew through them, slowly changing into its physical counterpart, it scratched the meridians. Took a slice out of them, in other words. Since they were partially physical, there was a limited amount of them. As the person aged, used up their physical energy, the meridians were 'chewed off' bit by bit, until they were no more - they broke down, leaving the person with no way to replace the spiritual energy. They did it one by one, until all were disconnected and the person died. Even if there was physical energy left in the body, the soul drifted off, no longer bound to it.

HuaiSang felt fuelled by the new information. A bit more and he might start cackling again...

...

He settled on mad giggles. A toddler giggling, sure as hell was less concerning than a one who cackled with an intensity of a homicidal psycho - which he would probably look like. So, yeah. Giggling.

His throat was going sore, by the time his mother's gaze from amused turned concerned. Seeing her furrowed brow, he let out one last giggle and began the tedious job of wiping the happy tears from his face. Toddler's hands were really hard to operate. The stubby fingers pissed him off, since HuaiSang was used to seeing graceful hands instead. How they grasped fans elegantly, or wrote letters as if they were made for it. The... _things_ he had now, were offending. Clenching them, HuaiSang almost banged his head on the floor.

How petty. He knew that he was aesthetically hard to please, but this is plain sad. And just after he had a laughing fit. Was he going crazy?

...

HuaiSang concluded that, no, he wasn't going crazy. His mental state was improving, on the contrary. Hesitatingly, he prodded the skin under his eye - inflamed, but there. The right side of his face was already healing, new facial hair "miraculously" sprouting on his eye-lid and where his brow once was. It bore signs of severe burning, still, but was coming back to normal. Even his ear was growing back!

(The left side fared less spectacularly, preserving the visage of a scorched corpse. But that didn't matter.)

The recovery was mostly because HuaiSang focused all his energy on cultivating. Well, almost, because his own curiosity did not allow him to leave the study of physical energy alone. But, mostly, he cultivated. And cultivated, and cultivated, and cultivated... He'd never done so much cultivation in his life!

It was tiring, but weirdly rewarding. His progress was fast - and when he says fast, its 'Wei WuXian fast', so 'from zero to a YunMeng hero in less than six years'. Also, after he was done, he was too tired to do much of anything, so no depressing thoughts. No mulling over them and spiralling into a crazed daze of suicidal intentions.

Joy.

And sometimes he was too tired to dream. Those days were a blessing.

(Someone now might have asked: "But you closed the chest! Shouldn't your nightmares be over by now?" And HuaiSang would need to explain that such reasoning was, in fact, not correct. The Chest hid only a portion of HuaiSang's fears. Not all, no - because with each "fear", a memory was closed off. And if he did that to all the things his nightmares were about, he would probably be left a happy-go-lucky, timid as hell head-shaker. With no backbone nor experience that would somewhat dump down his natural shyness.

So, no, he's not ridding himself of his "ghosts" anytime soon. He closed off enough things to know that it did take away from his personality._ HuaiSang's not going to make the same mistake twice._)

...

Unfortunately, his super quick progress did not mean that he could use spiritual energy. He's still building up his core, and that isn't really 'true cultivation'. Not until he can put divine into it, and command it to his will. Technically, it's called "the first stage of cultivation" but every cultivator knew that it was just for show. So the newbies don't complain as much.

But, rather fortunately, he could use physical energy. After his first trial of errors, things there went more smoothly. The knowledge from his previous life, mended with HuaiSang's continuous investigation, was helping quite much. He could move dust particles along his skin with energy, could make his vision better (or worse), could even change places with things in his vicinity! The last one was learned by 'watching' the non-cultivators.

They often gathered in groups to practice - almost everyday, he sensed a swarm of kids (young energies) going to the same place. There were some adults between them, but mostly just children. A school, maybe? They practised a set of different physical energy arrangements - the 'misplacement', the 'doubling', and... something? HuaiSang didn't really know what the last thing was, because even if he could sense the energy flow while they were doing it, he couldn't see any obvious effects - the energy puffed up around them and settled. And that's it! _Really frustrating. _

There was also a completely different kind of people he sensed, who also seemed to practice. They always went to the outskirts of his senses to do their thing. There was a higher percentage of adults in them, than in the first group, but kids also came there. Often in threes, usually joined by an adult. _Weird._ The things they did required more energy than the one's from the previous group. Some, at least.

HuaiSang, for simple reasons, was not going to practice them - his physical energy levels were pathetic.

He could barely do two of the things he mentioned before a day, not mentioning attempting any of the other 'techniques' the first group could do.

A third group also registered in his radars, but a barrier obstructed his senses when he wanted to look there. He could tell there were people in there, but it was really hard to say anything else. The barrier was probably made with a thought of local sensors, not HuaiSang, and that was the only reason he could even tell someone was there.

For now, he'll leave them alone.

Besides, HuaiSang's really curious about the third 'technique' the first group was practising. It didn't seem to be any more tiring than the previous two, nor very dangerous, so...

Did he have anything to lose?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Is it as boring as I think it is?


	10. A small birdie sat on the sill, it made loops and swings, and then... Disappeared!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> HuaiSang tries out the new 'technique'. Chaos ensues.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Without hand-sings, jutsus are hard.

He gritted his baby teeth in frustration. _Damn it! __Why is it so hard? _ It was HuaiSang's third week of trying out the fucking technique, and still nothing! The 'misplacement' thing had taken him one third of this time! And it looks so simple too...

Pass the energy through your whole body, make it settle just under your skin - check.

Concentrate some of it in your brain, then pass it around the 'sheet' you made before - check.

Push it all out in the same time - check.

The slight mist appeared around him, but otherwise - nothing. He repeated the motion again and again, but there was no effect. Everyday, for the past twenty days, this was his routine. Until he was completely exhausted, HuaiSang would go through it stubbornly. The slight boredom that bloomed in him, because the thing became so familiar he didn't even have to focus to do it any more, did not deter him. It made him more angry, yes, but he couldn't just give up. Could he? The obviously young energies he sensed did it without a hitch, why didn't HuaiSang?

_Even training my spy birds was easier than this _\- he thought, going through the next round of tries - _Certainly less_ _irritating. Ah, my lovely birdies..._ A sigh escaped him, being the physical form of his longing. The creatures were the second thing after fans that he missed very dearly. Their songs, their shiny black feathers and golden beaks...

Puff!

His perspective changed. As if he suddenly got shorter. HuaiSang's body felt different, but in the same time... Not? He raised his arm, expecting the ugly baby fingers. Instead... Feathers. He saw shiny black feathers. Stretching the _thing_ further, HuaiSang came to a disturbing conclusion - _it's a wing_. He clearly recognised the rows of feathers, neatly put together as if nature itself wanted him to feel pleased. Craning his neck to the other side, a similar sight greeted him. _A little bit more_ \- and the rest of him matched the wing. Then, he looked down - where his feet should be - only to see a set of bird claws. Tiny black talons sticking out of three 'fingers', a bigger one in his 'thumb'. A thumb that was completely opposite to the rest of his claws. 

Looking up, HuaiSang was stuck between spitting blood and jumping in joy.

This technique was a transformation technique! Not a full transformation, since he could still feel his own body, but...

Moving his wings up and down, HuaiSang tried to rise into the air. He remembered how his birdies used to do it, and tried to copy the movement. Stepping from foot to foot he jumped up. Flapping his arms, he only elongated the hop. Unfortunately, it seemed that even this made the landing very difficult. Tumbling down into an indignant heap, HuaiSang let out an annoyed yip. Which changed to a childish wail, as a puff of smoke enveloped him.

He was a baby again, now sitting where the bird stood.

_Whoa._

...

He was very lucky that his father was away somewhere, and his mother was a heavy sleeper. There was so much noise made in the tries that followed, that he felt truly amazed that his mother didn't wake up yet.

At first, he again took the form of a bird. It fascinated him, because HuaiSang really didn't feel much difference while being an animal. And he should, since their anatomy was drastically different to the human one. Birds' bones were hollow, and their skulls would never fit a human brain in them - and yet. There was no difference when HuaiSang pranced around his crib as one of his spy birds. True, he felt lighter, and was aware that his body was different, but... Not that he _felt_ it. His physical energy pathways were in the same places, not where his 'bird-body' was. It kinda distracted him. Though if he didn't focus on them, the fact wasn't noticeable.

Then, HuaiSang tried to take a form of something other.

_How?_

He knew that he needed to see the birdie in his brain before he changed into it, so if he imagined a different thing...

Puff!

Now his vision was much higher than before. HuaiSang blinked a few times before slowly looking down. His hands were those of an adult. Sleeves of his favourite indoors robe, with dark green fabric pulling at his feet. Long hair slipping past his shoulder, reaching his knees. Hesitatingly, he took a huge step above the bars, and walked across the room. A glance to the right confirmed that his mother was deep in slumber. On his toes, HuaiSang got to the mirror plastered onto the wardrobe door. In the half darkness of night, the reflection seemed ethereal, but...

His visage was his own, just about the age of thirty, not marked by time. Eyes the colour of bile, sickly yellow fading into brown. Thin lips, accompanied by flat cheeks and round jaw, that always made him look a lot younger. Broad shoulders, courtesy of genetics, masked by finely sewn clothing. And most of all, hair long and sleek, partially up in a decorative bun, held together by golden pins and strips of firm fabric.

HuaiSang's heart skipped a beat. _This is me. _A hand reached out to his face, prodding and poking. So different from his mind-scape. Soft.

He pinched harder, pain spreading in his cheek -

Pop!

A child.

Again.

HuaiSang saw red.

...

Back in his crib, HuaiSang stared at the ceiling mindlessly. His gaze was unlike any child, tired and heavy. If his new parents could see him, they would probably be scared. 'A child, yet it's eyes are dead! Soulless, it's a monster!' - A bitter smile stretched HuaiSang's lips, before it vanished. As if it never existed, as it never should. 

_Ha. _

Edges of his vision blackened, muscles slacked with exhaustion. After his last transformation, there was no energy left. Good that he was even able to get back to his 'bed'. We don't want his parents suspecting anything, do we?

HuaiSang's eyelids slid shut.

...

He became adept at flying. It wasn't as hard as it seemed, just complicated. To do it, HuaiSang needed to... Adjust his mindset, first of all. Something like:

_I'm a bird._

_I'm small and can fit between the bars, or in a barely opened window._

_I'm light as can be, made to fly._

_My feet are enough to ensure a safe landing._

He may sound crazy (he probably is, anyway), but there's no way he would fly while thinking he's too heavy or the size of human. That would disorientate him needlessly. And any distractions while trying to fucking _fly_, were a potential hazard. To his life, health and, most importantly, the secrecy of his ministrations. Plus, HuaiSang found inexplicable joy in being a bird - he wasn't about to ruin it with some petty misunderstandings.

Secondly, following another week of_ learning_ about the technique, HuaiSang discovered that the closer his 'disguise' was to his actual size, the more comfortable it felt. So, for example, as a spy bird he felt more challenged than as a raven. That, meant that the spy-bird disguise would not stick. HuaiSang needed to find something better. A bird the size of a baby, preferably. But which one?

As an experienced falconer, he had trained many birds. The spy-birds he'd been most proud of, yeah, but that didn't mean he hadn't worked with other species. In the war with Wens (how long ago was that, huh?), he unofficially apprenticed himself under a master falconer, after feeling greatly useless. He loved birds from a young age, though that never extended beyond feeding swifts and sparrows in his gardens, or demanding a peacock as a pet when he was a kid. Until the war, that is. Then, he decided to implement this 'love' - and, surprise, surprise! He turned out to be a decent falconer!

And now, he had a huge range of birds to choose from. Something large, but not as big as a crane (too long legs). Bigger than a kite, but smaller than a golden eagle (that would be an overkill, in his opinion). Hmm... An owl, maybe?

_An eagle-owl!_

_Yes!_

Similar in size to a toddler, common enough to not be suspicious and a sight he remembers rather clearly. Though the second point is a bit of a guess, since he has no clue where he is, and if owls live here at all. But, well, he supposes it isn't much different from what he knows (unlike technology), since he'd seen pigeons, crows and other common birds.

Worth a shot.

Thirdly, he solved the problem of the 'disguise' dissipating with a slightest bump. It took him the most time to figure out, because it was quite a subtle thing. Turns out, that he'd been putting the barest minimum of energy into the technique, which cause it to be very fragile. Sufficient so it looked fine, but really weak. 

If he puts more energy into it, the problem will be done, right?

Not quite.

Because the more energy he uses, the harder it will be to control. Even if physical energy is much easier to control than Qi, a huge amount of it will prove almost equally troublesome. It may not exactly overwhelm HuaiSang, since his control over spiritual energy (at the end of his past life, at least) was very fine, but it would be much more difficult.

Well, what choice does he have?

He's up to the challenge!

Otherwise, trying to fly would be extremely dangerous. What if he hits a branch while trying to land, and suddenly turns into a baby? That wouldn't do!

...

Transformation strong, HuaiSang had no problem opening the window with his beak (no matter the weird mechanism). It took him quite a while to figure out how to use it, but hey, flying was much worse.

He slid onto the outside sill, making as little noise as possible. Then, with the help of his talons, closed it behind himself, to the point where only the smallest of his claws could fit between the frames. Even if his mother did wake up, she probably wouldn't notice that it was open... She would be too busy looking for her child.

Oh well, risks are a part of this job, aren't they?

He could leave a 'clone' in his place, but that would half his already fickle reserves. And that wouldn't be good.

So. Risks.

Taking a deep breath, HuaiSang looked around. He didn't sense anyone nearby, though better be careful than sorry. Seeing no one, he spread his arms... Er, wings, and fell forwards. Air swished in his ears and slashed at his eyes, and HuaiSang readied to steady his flight.

A few seconds later, his wings reached their maximum spread, making him glide. Higher, into the night sky, into the steady air currents which made flying effortless. A delicate flap of the feathers once in a while was enough to keep him up. A blink of the second eyelid ensured that his eyes wont prick. He should have done it beforehand, but... 

Anyway, once the flight was steadied, HuaiSang could safely say that he liked it. Liked it very much. Feeling weightless, as if there was nothing holding him back, he could finally say there existed something that he liked to do - something that would count as physical exercise, if anyone asked him. Even if his arms hurt afterwards, and energy was practically depleted, the head-shaker never regretted flying. He always grumbled, even after practising with his fans as weapons. Yet now, it just felt too incredible to do so.

The breathless excitement thrumming in his veins, the palpable danger. The satisfaction he experienced afterwards. _Similar to opium, actually, _realized he, chuckling. He wasn't an addict, no, but he tried it a few times. Oh, the high! Even though the effect given was one of a kind, flying brought forth something oddly reminiscent. Exhilarating, unmistakable.

Maybe, if HuaiSang ever got to become a real cultivator in his first life, he wouldn't value flying as much. Though flying on a sword was certainly different from doing it as a bird, there was no doubt it was in the same category. Since the former Sect-Leader only ever looked at other people flying, a jealousy formed within him. Which probably amplified the experience of first flight - a strong desire being fulfilled made people like that. Additionally, with his love of birds, you can guess what 'being a bird' done to HuaiSang.

Though, there's something more important that he should be thinking about right now...

HE WILL CRUSH INTO A DAMN TREE IF HE DOESN'T _IMMEDIATELY _DO SOMETHING!

With a screech-like scream (because curiously, he still has his human voice), HuaiSang angled his body as if to land and stretched his talons forwards. His legs hit the bark with an unpleasant _thump_ and stars appeared before his eyes. In the last moment his feet squeezed, effectively slicing into the bark. Head spinning, he latched onto the plant like a lifeline. His wings flailed for a moment, before sticking to the tree as if in a hug. If he had arms, he would hug it. 

Uh, that was _close._

For a minute, the men-turned-child-turned-owl, allowed himself to just calm down. His heart-beat slowly became less erratic, head clearing to pass through coherent thoughts.

Apparently, it wasn't a good idea to space out during flight.

At least he knew that his disguise really was strong.

...

Determination shone in his eyes as he glided through the forest. He dodged trees and branches as if he'd been doing it his whole life. A risky turn there, a mad manoeuvre here. Flips and propping his claws on bark to gain velocity were common, but until now, no accidents happened. Truth to be told, it's his first time flying inside a forest. The past few days he only dared to wonder near his house, in fear of getting lost or being too far to come back quickly if the hour turned late (or early, taking in the fact that he was going out at night) and he didn't realize in time.

But, as we know well by now, HuaiSang decided it was time to play risky.

So he slid between the leafs, forgetting about it all. When, from somewhere deeper into the forest, he heard noises.

Thud.

Thud.

Thud.

The mechanical sound seemed anything but natural. It repeated in series, sometimes in quick succession, sometimes with longer breaks. But there always was a _thud _following it's predecessor. It was haunting. Like a corpse nocking on the door of its coffin. A shiver went down HuaiSang's spine.

_What if it is a corpse? _

He gulped, wishing he didn't fucking hear it. He was never a good cultivator - therefore not a competent one. There was no way HuaiSang on his own could exercise a corpse - maybe in his old body, with all its experience and "strength". Not now, when he really can't use spiritual energy and is a damn baby. And even if he had access to Qi, he had no spiritual weapons, and with his stubby fingers a possibility of finding a suitable instrument to play an exorcising melody is useless.

Though, melody on it's own can subdue low level corpses...

And he can 'transform' himself into an adult...

_Heavens help me,_ thought HuaiSang, taking a turn into the direction of the sound. He can't just leave it alone! There's no cultivators in this place, and he won't just leave these people to deal with something that they can't. He's nowhere near a good person, but he's not fucking cruel (okay, he is, but not to commoners). 

Thud!

And maybe he's just panicking?

Thud!

Maybe it's not a corpse, and he's just too paranoid?

Thud!

You paranoid old bastard!

Thud!

Before he could rethink his decision, a figure appeared in his line of sight. Standing between the trees, in the darkness. All alone. It looked as if it was throwing something. With his physical-energy powered eyes, he could make out a clear outline of a short man (a child?) whose arms moved back and forth - once with something in them and once without. The person changed it's position from time to time, otherwise projecting a... perfect fighting stance?

Thud!

HuaiSang cautiously glided closer, careful wing-flaps not making any sounds. Even in the meagre light of the moon, he was able to discern some of the more important details. _Definitely a child, _is his judgment. Its hair are on the longer side of 'short', eyes big, baby-fat still in its cheeks.

Thud!

The child's stance though, speaks of years of practice. The muscles in its arms bear clear signs of training. And its aim is also great.

HuaiSang's eyes narrow.

Thud!

Every of the little daggers that the boy (not a girl, even if he ignores the obviously boyish clothing) had thrown hit the target. There's so many knives in the wooden pallet that he can't see the wood any more. But the boy throws incessantly, even if some of his projectiles only stick between his previous hits, not touching the tablet at all. 

Clink!

Thud!

All of this is concerning, yes, but the boy isn't an undead. Which would make HuaiSang smile obnoxiously, if not for his beak.

Clink!

And if not for a fact that the child is alone. In a forest. At night. Throwing. Fucking. Daggers.

Thud!

Now, if HuaiSang was a young man, he would probably leave the boy to his own devises, awed by his skills and miffed that he can't do the same. But, he's a Grandfather. And with such a title, come certain responsibilities.

Thud!

If this was one of his grand-kids, he would drag them home, scold them, lecture them, prise them, let them off (because he's not their parent, goddammit!) and promise to give them more time to throw daggers during the day - even arrange a special training ground.

Clink!

But, he doesn't know this boy. Isn't a Sect Leader, any more, and he himself is a child. Only in looks, yes, but he doubts anyone would listen to him. Add to it the fact that he can't speak the same language the boy does (most probably). That would make him unable to do anything he would have done with his own grandchildren. Or even if he'd met with such a situation in his past life.

Clink!

Sighing, because how hard life had to make it, HuaiSang makes a decision. He can't leave this child alone.

He won't.

Clink!

Which leaves him with the question of how?

How to make a child below ten years old abandon something which clearly they are determined to do? How to do it while being an owl/toddler, who is unable to communicate? He can't change into an adult, because he would spook the kid or give the parents an unidentified person to worry about, when the kid goes back home and tells them what happened. Well, he could scare the boy and make him run home, but the little guy doesn't remind him of the easily spooked ones. Rather the ones who stay and fight, sure of their 'prowess'. And he doesn't want to fight the kid, since he's destined to lose (no matter how pathetic it sounds). So...

What can be done?

...Huh?

At the lack of any thuds or clicks, HuaiSang focuses back on the _problem_ before him. The boy is in the process of searching through his pockets - or holders? Bags? - and when he finds nothing he sags in on himself.

And HuaiSang is suddenly hit with an idea. Kids are impressionable, unreasonable, and often oddly prideful. Expecting a prise for the weirdest of things.

If the boy finds a friendly owl, he's sure to run to his parents to show it to them!

HuaiSang smirks internally.

*****

Itachi didn't think he'd thrown enough kunai to convey his frustration, when leafs rustle behind him. As a responsible shinobi, he whirls around, fight ready. He doesn't think it's an enemy per se, but Shisui only startles him like that when he wants to spar. And Shisui doesn't _ask_ for spars. He simply attacks. At least with Itachi.

To his surprise (and mortification, for a fraction of a second) it's not his cousin. On the damp grass lands an owl. A big one at that. Itachi would assume it just caught its dinner, if not for the piercing stare it directed at him. It cocked its head to the side, orange eyes boring into Itachi like accurately thrown senbon. Its posture and appearance didn't hint at agitation in the slightest, which any normal wild animal would be, if met with a human.

_Not a normal animal, _concludes Itachi. _A henge, a summon or it has rabies. Please not the last_ one... Seeing only one way of finding out sensible, Itachi activates his Sharingan. Usually it would show any irregularities a henge would have, and an impression of the person's chakra system. Which would stick out like a sore thumb, if the thing they transformed into was bigger/smaller than them.

If it fits perfectly, it's a summon.

If it doesn't have a chakra system, it's the third option. _God, please not that!_

Uff...

Itachi almost sighs in relief - it's a summon. Almost, because he'd never seen owl summons. Or heard of them, anyhow. So, it's either a summon of someone who's very secretive (possibly an enemy), it's just not well known, and the person never bothered to tell him about it (Shisui or any other idiotic cousin), or it reverse summoned itself to the human world by accident (or purposefully, you never know) and is trying to find a suitable contractor. 

The second option is most probable, since the Uchiha are well known for their avian summons, and his family _is_ stupid. But he wont rule out the first one because that would be irresponsible of him (and moronic). The last one... Well, never say never.

Just which one is it?

And how to-

A commotion to his left had Itachi jumping back, wariness etched into his features.

"Itachi, I've told you not to...!"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Introducing Itachi! And a cliffhanger. Sorry not sorry.


	11. Shisui is tired. HuaiSang doesn't think he was that weird as a kid

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Starring: Itachi as an animal lover, Shisui as an exasperated older cousin and HuaiSang as a raptor. And as an old coot, but that's behind the scenes.

"...Not to go overboard with... Your training...?" Shisui's gaze travelled from Itachi to the owl, and back again. It did a few rounds, before stopping on the animal. "Did you have a staring contest with a bird just now?"

"...No."

"You stared it down with your Sharingan?" At that, Itachi's eyes faded to black, all red running to his cheeks. 

"No!" Itachi sounded more indignant by the minute. "And it's a summon!" Well, if anyone could discern that from his normal tone.

"Oh," Shisui's eyes turned more piercing. "Yours?"

"No. One of our cousins'?"

"Don't think so - haven't heard about any of them getting a contract." A quick glance at Itachi informed that he hadn't either. In hasty hand-signs, Shisui asked:

'Hostile?'

'Not confirmed'

The answer made the older Uchiha tense. His gaze stuck to the bird like glue, observing each twitch, gesture or anything that would indicate an attack. Nothing. Only its head moved from one to the other, pupils motionless. _Right, _he'd heard somewhere that owls can't move their eyes. _Creepy. _He worked hard not to cringe - summons can be very sassy, he doesn't want to offend one. Even if it was send to kill him or infiltrate the village.

"What is your purpose here?" sliced through the silence Itachi, voice steady. _Amaterasu bless him, _thanked Shisui, because he doesn't think he has the nerves to do this. At night. When he was supposed to be sleeping off his last mission. A yawn almost escaped the clenched muscles of his jaw.

"..." The animal did not answer, just stared at the younger boy... Incredulously? _Can birds have such expressions? _

"Nod if you understand what I'm saying," tried the boy. But the little fella did not move, apart from blinking at Itachi with even more confusion conveyed in it's face. "Shisui, is it possible for a summon to not... Understand?"

"Guess so? I've heard 'bout small 'puppy' summons who only know'eir native, but - er, they usually don't leave their dimensions."

Itachi's brows furrowed further. Then, his hands flew in hand-signs so rapid, that Shisui's hazy brain had a problem with discerning them.

'Way to verify? And if it's an enemy?'

'I go to the village for help. You keep it here. But first-'

A senbon slid out of his sleeve.

"We want to check if it has a contractor," saying that, he plopped down to the ground. "If it does, we can assume them to be outside of the village. Depending on the owl's reaction, it can be both hostile or not." He sat in a perfect seiza.

"If it doesn't?" Itachi was close to sounding hopeful.

"Probably reverse summoned itself to the human realm," Shisui displayed the tool to the animal, who's eyes narrowed. "Probably unintentionally."

Then, he proceeded to drive the needle into his hand. Blood dripped out of the wound, and the bird recoiled a bit. Its perplexed (how does it even do it?) expression almost matched Itachi's. Almost, since the younger Uchiha would still look expressionless to an outsider. Though, Shisui hopes no one's watching them, since that would complicate this already fucked-up situation. Or maybe not? They could take over from him and he could go to sleep...

Eh... Wishful thinking.

"If it allows me to mix its blood with mine," continued to explain the teen, now clearly showing the owl his wounded hand. "It doesn't have a contractor."

Itachi's curious glance his way told Shisui that he'll need to explain in more detail later. He shuffled it to the corner of his mind, focusing on the bird. It stared at him in trepanation and wonder, as he bend to a bow. Low enough to be called respectful, but not enough to mark the summon as dominant. Social interactions were exhilarating. 

What wouldn't he do for a while of peace...

"Bow, Itachi. Then slowly approach it, and offer it your forearm," The kid did as told, raised brow the only indicator of his interest. When he took his first steps towards the summon, its head snapped to him, beak open. Feathers slightly puffed up, it did nothing more 'hostile' than that. When Itachi came into a crouch before it, lowering his hand into the grass, it mirrored his expression of doubtfulness. 

It blinked, gaze going from the arm offered to Itachi's face, as if to judge the sincerity of his proposition. Shisui held his breath. 

The raptor visibly shrugged, hopping on the limb. It's expression turned to resigned, and Shisui again found himself fascinated at how it could do it. Because really, its more expressive than Itachi, for God's sake!

Itachi straightened up, and Shisui motioned for him to come closer. "Now, come 'ere. Allow it to stay on your arm," some things were not voiced - 'shunshin away if it attacks'. "Don't try to touch it with your other hand."

"Mhm," hummed Itachi, fully engaged into keeping the animal on his forearm. Seeing it from close up, Shisui noted that the owl tried not to squeeze too much the 'dainty' wrist it was perched on. Rather, took the effort to keep its talons loose. _Interesting._

Not bothering to reply, he showed the raptor his senbon. It eyed the object sceptically, shuffling its wings. _Lets hope it won't get scared... This is a summon after all. Shouldn't really be bothered if I just prick it, right? _Making his movements very slow, deliberate, the teen leaned in and closed the needle to the bird's leg. It twitched slightly, but when Shisui looked up, stared him down with no fear. As if challenging him. He huffed and gave it a nod, before delicately piercing the side of its foot. Blood gathered into a drop, which he let drip onto his finger.

Having the senbon in the same hand was inconvenient, so Shisui unclenched the other three fingers and saw it slip into the grass._ It will be a bother to look for... _Now, at least, there was place for more movement_. Okay, this part done, lets get to the mixing! _His other hand, the one he pricked, seemed to be already healing. There was only a small amount of dried blood around the wound, and that wouldn't do. So he brought the wound to his mouth to water it down... And done! New blood was leaking from the miniscule injury. In the moment where enough gathered, he let the owl's own drip to join his.

There was a second where the world stilled, everyone focused on that one drop of liquid. Shisui saw Itachi holding his breath, he himself doing just that. Even the bird tilted its head forwards, following the path of the drop intently.

_Drip._

Nothing happened.

The liquids splashed a tiny bit, mixing.

Nothing happened.

Three breaths of relief were released at once.

"Seems we have a stray summon in Konoha!" proclaimed the older Uchiha, leaning back.

*****

HuaiSang has no clue what just happened. _The kids these days are fucking nuts! _They certainly wanted to give him a heart attack. Throwing daggers in a dark forest at night, appearing out of nowhere, eyes glowing red! No, no, no, he has no damn patience for this!

On the other hand though, he can't help to be intrigued. The two boys definitely thought him sentient, despite the fact that he looked like an owl. They behaved in a way that would hint of unnatural cautiousness, especially in children. They behaved... Adult, almost. The first one, whose eyes glowed red, hardly showed any emotion. His face was mostly impassive, childish yet intelligent. Testimony to that 'intellect' would be found in how the boy interacted with the older one - didn't need to be told twice (at least HuaiSang haven't heard anything to be over-repeated, or the other boy to sound exasperated), could communicate without words and there was something calm about how he said things. The former Sect Leader could recognise a prodigy when he saw one.

The second one was deceptively more emotive. His face was smiling lightly, cheeks insufferably puffed up. But, if you looked close enough, you would see the dark bags under the boy's eyes, conjoined with the fact that his expression didn't really move that much. Of course, there were twitches and adjustments made in the appropriate times, though they always seemed forced. Apart from the very beginning when the older just arrived, his maintenance was clearly faked. Having experience dealing with such people, HuaiSang could readily mark him as one of them.

Altogether, their collective traits shouldn't make them any-more trustworthy than Jin GuangYao on a good day, but...

Boredom can muddle one's mind, okay?

He's already been doing so many questionable things, why not this? Why not allow them to draw his blood or treat him like a trained falconry bird? Or rather treat him like a normal human being, eh?

Okay, he can say that it's nice not being treated like a one year old baby. HuaiSang can deal with being thought of as a meagre head-shaker most of the time, but 24/7? And going down to a level of a toddler is simply humiliating. Even _he_ can't stand it any longer. _So, yeah_ \- risk of being stabbed for the uncanny pleasure of being treated with at least a semblance of respect? Count him in!

Apparently, it paid off. Maybe he was stabbed, sure, and it hurt like a bitch, but the two boys still didn't look at him like at a toddler. Success! And now he knew that his new transformation was truly solid. Two birds with one stone, as they say.

HuaiSang, perched on the arm of the younger one, sighed with satisfaction as they began heading towards town. His initial goal was accomplished, which he counts as double success. Though, was there a need for it? Because these boys aren't normal, and now HuaiSang knows that very well - once the first one's eyes glowed red, HuaiSang automatically let his 'sixth sense' spread around. Such a scare really, for nought. It only proved that this kid's energy proportions were above norm, not that of a demonic cultivator. Informing HuaiSang, that he was one of the not-cultivators-but-strong people - which he took in stride after the initial assumption that nearly gave him a heart attack.

The second boy also had abnormal physical energy levels, so there was a huge possibility that they both could protect themself just fine (ignoring the perfectly thrown daggers, that became a sand grain in HuaiSang's eye when he realised he may have overreacted). Well, HuaiSang won't oppose the statement that he's a bit overprotective of kids. After all, it's understandable.

He hadn't raised two devils for nothing, excuse you.

And helped in raising another five.

Two kids who aren't even his can't be a problem, can they?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I thought out the ritual Shisui performed on our newly transformed owl. There isn't such a ridiculous thing in the Naruto universe, but I do think it fits - since, you know, signing the contracts with blood, and all that.


	12. Dream a little dream (of an assassination attempt)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> WARNING! GORE! HuaiSang is pleasantly surprised.

**Two months later... **

HuaiSang can say that finally, he makes progress. That finally, there's something he can do apart from pretending (futilely) to be a normal baby. And well, he isn't saying that experimenting with energy or cultivating weren't progress, were nothing, but then again - how long can one stand to do only two things? Diversity is needed. Even for an old bastard like HuaiSang, variety isn't optional. He would do without change (with more stability - that's for sure), but living a continuous routine is not something he fancies very much. 

Now he can't really complain, can he?

Evidently, faiths decided to indulge him, giving him what he wishes for on a sliver platter. Excitement? Boom! A kid throwing knives in a forest! Understanding? Ta-da! They don't treat him like a baby! The desire to learn the language? Ping! They want to teach him! HuaiSang can't be in two places in the same time because his 'clone' isn't corporal, but he wants to spend more time as an owl? Ka-boom! The kid uses a different kind of a clone that's much more stable! And HuaiSang can copy it!

He still can't believe he had those under his nose the whole time, and haven't seen them!

That's a fucking sin!

You can say all these things are crazy, but there was an... _Event_ that baffled HuaiSang much more - a dream. Not a nightmare. But a dream. Right now, perched on a branch while Itachi (HuaiSang finally had names to pin to both of the boys) threw daggers, he tried to recall it. Some of it was a memory - not exactly a good one, but not a bad one either - and some fantasy. His mind going all funky, he supposes. _Especially since the dream wasn't a nightmare._

...

The Sect Leader's eyes cracked open. Cold winter breeze hit his face, slashing at the tangled covers and bare skin. His hand shot out like a viper, fan snapping open. A second later, a tip of a sword was drifting through the corpus of his 'toy', killing intent flooding the room.

Snap!

The fan clasped down on the blade. HuaiSang's wrist twisted and the weapon soon enough changed hands. In one swift motion, he pulled himself up and thrust the sword forwards (_a foreign design. Long handle, one sided blade. Not a Nie sabre, too thin_). Only after a wet slap, did Nie HauiSang's brain registered what he saw - A men in black, head to toe clad in cloth, with the hilt of his own sword sticking out of his breast. His figure was covered with a layer of snow, it's white sheen stark contrast to the darkness of the room. He fell hard on the polished floors, the blade pushed out of him by the wood.

HuaiSang jumped out of the bed, fan ready. The killing intent didn't cease.

  
Goose-bumps rose on his body, the linen under-shirt providing only this much warmth. The wind wheezed outside, kicking the window shutters back and forth. But the Sect Leader stayed still. Slap! And HuaiSang strained his ears. Thunk! Scraping on the roof, so delicate that he might have missed it amidst the brewing snow storm. Thud! White flakes drifted into his chamber.

Slap!

A shadow was the lone warning, as a blade fell down on his face. A man, dressed like the dead one (_a bit taller than the previous, shoulders lanky, lacking in muscle_). The weapon whistled as it cut the air, missing Nie HuaiSang by a hair. In the same time five more people jumped into the room - three of them breaking through the door, two following the path of their predecessors. Each had at least one blade, their killing intent melding together, pushing down on HuaiSang.

He shivered.

And the stall snapped.

Blades flew, fans whirled. The Sect Leader turned left and right, somewhere in the skirmish snatching a second fan from his night-stand. The weapons danced with grace, practised precision evident in their movements. But that wasn't enough - his attackers weren't trifling. Numbers acting on their side, HuaiSang wondered where his guards were. They should have heard the fight and come to succour. With them, the scales could topple to Huaisang's advantage.

But no.

Gulping, the Sect Leader jarred at his opponents. A coherent plan began forming in his head.

His left fan glided across the room, almost cutting a men's head off. He tried to dodge - to no avail. Too lately realising he's in danger, the fancy weapon went through his artery like butter. It didn't stop there, flying to bury into the wall. _One down, five to go. _Right after that a spasm wrecked HuaiSang - one of the attackers used his minute distraction to jab into his ribs. The pain send stars before his eyes. Blood gushed in an arc, as the dagger scraped his lungs.

HuaiSang staggered. More blades headed for his flesh, _and his plan was screwed. _With great struggle, the Sect Leader jerked his hand, finger delicately pressing on a metal string. The eyes of his opponent widened comically, as his hand pulled down. Shiny lines suddenly criss-crossing the chamber.

Three heads fell, bodies stuck in the tangles of string. The other two plastered themselves to the walls, avoiding most of the deadly metal. Most, as a few wounds were evident on their forms. Nie HuaiSang let out a breath, pulse echoing in his brain. His right leg was _on fucking fire, _crimson splattering around. His foot stuck out in a weird direction, the metal threads squeezing it tirelessly. _That's what you get for a half-arsed job! _The skin of his thigh gave out quickly, bloody lines engraving themselves on him. Ankle already sliced up, the Sect Leader felt dizzy. His toes were numb.

_Fucking piece of shit!_

If he cuts the string to free his leg, all of the threads will fall. The assassins will have an easy way to him. If he moves to much, the strings will shift - there's a huge probability he'll end up without a leg. Apart from that, he's already bleeding out.

_Oh well. _

The attackers began moving, rising their weapons to try to get rid of the temporary maze. Sucking in a breath (and immediately regretting that as his side exploded in pain), Huaisang pushed his fan through the main string. The razor-sharp ending sliced the thread effortlessly.

Silver lines sled on the floor, the pressure around his leg receding. The beheaded offenders fell like stones. He staggered. The two assassins jumped to action, just as HuaiSang limped out of the room. His run was weak, yet it wasn't far until he found what he looked for - his guards. Dead. Throats slit cleanly, sabres still in scabbards. The Sect Leader ripped the symbol of his Sect from one of the corpses, steel glinting in the torch light.

The scabbard hit the ground.

HuaiSang tucked his fan by his belt, fingers curling around the new-found hilt. His two pursuers attacked dually, their foreign swords falling on him with force. Normally, Nie HuaiSang would be unable to stop them, but not now. The sabre in his hands lusted for blood. This time, he isn't going to oppose it.

Energy exploded from his core. The sabre tore through the space between him and the assassins. Heavy blood-lust came over them in waves, the strangers choking on their breaths. Seeing red, HuaiSang attacked. His style changed completely - crude, no grace left. The sword swished as it bowed down on the intruders, it's weight almost like a crafts-man's hammer. They dodged. The blade went down all the way, slicing the timber boards easily.

With both hands, Nie HuaiSang plucked the sabre from his floors. The assassins seemed to come to their senses, the shaking of their limbs less noticeable. Weapons ready, they came at the Sect Leader with all they had. _Not enough. _HuaiSang swung his blade around, thoughts muddled by rage. His arms ached, his right leg dragged behind, useless. And yet, the longer he fought, the more fury showed in his moves. Blood flew in the air, the sabre feeding on it, thriving. The attackers slowly tired. Their fighting became sloppy, distracted - more crimson.

A huge slash from shoulder to hip took down one of them. His knees gave out. Sword clanked on the ground. The Sect Leader chuckled hoarsely, eyes locking with the last offender. Shakily rising his sabre, he thrust forward. The enemy parred, his sword shaking from the impact. The need to see his blood spill overwhelmed HuaiSang, when suddenly - 

"Father?"

His eyes locked on the sleepy child. They stared back, confused. Their gaze travelled from Nie HuaiSang to the assassin, stuck in a stall of surprise. They scraped above the corpse lying aside, before widening. The child startled, sight coming back to their parent.

"Dad?!"

But the Sect Leader had no time to answer, as his opponent decided to make use of the distraction. He moved, quick in desperation - but not to attack Nie HuaiSang, no. He jumped for the 'easy prey'. The new factor in their fight.

The child.

The Nie descendant yelped, their woollen blanket pulled away from small hands, now restrained. The assassin had a secure grip on the child - one arm around their torso, the other holding a sword just millimetres away from their neck. The little one gulped, their eyes wide and expression progressively more frightened.

"Dad!" The blade touched their neck; a warning. A trickle of blood - the child choked, tears running down their cheeks.

HuaiSang's head was going to burst with how much his temples hurt right now - bloodlust whispering such sweet things into his ear... But his child was now a hostage. If he attacks, there will be two lives lost instead of one. And the Sect Leader isn't fast enough to get there before the blade strucks true. The rage in him taunts the desire to kill - _kill, kill, kill, kill._ HuaiSang's whole body trembles, as he tells himself; _No_. We need to find a different solution.

All his strings were used up, the fan unattainable since his opponent is sure to see him reach for it - he wouldn't take that risk. The sabre in his hand, although tempting, felt useless - he can't throw it well enough to not miss. To not kill his descendant in the process. Still, HuaiSang fingers the hilt thoughtfully, the little bumps sweet under his touch. Should he?

Staring down his nose, the Sect Leader looked his opponent in the eye. The part of their face that was visible, seemed pale, sickly so. Pupils shrunken despite the feeble torchlight, they stared back. And took a step backwards. Nie HuaiSang's brow raised, unimpressed. His opponent froze minutely, before taking another step. And another. The child in their hands shook with fright - the sabre in HuaiSang's hand with anticipation. But it would not get its fill...

World in reds and blacks, the head-shaker... Staggered. Blinked rather owlishly, breaking eye-contact with the assassin. Swayed on his feet. Fingers slack, the sabre fell from the Sect Leader's hand. The stranger tensed, confusion dyeing the air around him. Nie HuaSang collapsed, planting his head on the floor. The assassin jumped back, but HuaiSang did not get up. The back of his night-gown was crimson, a dagger sticking out from under his left ribcage. Red poured on the ground -

"No!" the child cried out, despite the sword pressing on their neck. It pressed further - the Nie descendant stilled.

Everything stilled.

One beat.

Two.

Three.

Nothing.

The assassin cautiously stirred closer. Child in tight grip, he crouched down next to the fallen Sect Leader. The man shifted his hostage, and soon enough one of his hands was free. It went downwards, slowly. Fingers gradually slid on Nie HuaiSang's scalp, gripping his hair and raising his head. The stranger jerked his forehead up - nothing happened. Eyelids closed, the Nie Leader did not respond. Letting go abruptly, the head hit the polished wood with a slap.

Nothing.

Brushing away HuaiSang's hair, two fingers jammed down on his neck. And waited.

No pulse.

More seconds passed, before the assassin exhaled a laboured breath. He got up, turned around and with long steps rushed to find the nearest exit. But before he even got to the end of the hall, he heard a shuffle.

That was the only warning.

His head fell down, cleanly cut. Blood burst out, limbs loosed. The child screamed in surprise as the arms holding it let go. Both crushed on the ground, the noise resounding in tandem with the far-away shouts of Nie disciples.

...

This cannot be called a nightmare, really. Sure, that assassination attempt wasn't a nice experience, and he would do without all the blood in his bedroom, but it wasn't a scarring event... Just a one calling for more caution in the future.

The dream was an almost perfect copy of his memory, but if HuaiSang looked hard enough, there were some minor... Inaccuracies. First of all, the fight in his room lasted much longer - the period between him thinking out the plan and acting on it (if not completely), was much longer. Both he and his opponents were quite winded by the time the stings rose. Second, his rage was much more potent. The decision to let go of the sabre came much harder - his fingers felt like glued, his body wanted to continue the rampage, filled with energy. Now, the ex-Sect Leader didn't know what to feel about that. As if the dream was undermining his sacrifice, making it so damn easy... Third, the child that appeared and was taken hostage was his son - yet, in the dream, he never referred to him as 'he'. Only 'they', 'it'. No name, no gender, no characteristics. Just the fact that it's his descendant. Nothing more.

_Disturbing._

The kid had short black hair, soft baby-face and dark, brown eyes. Not his son, was his first conclusion. Though they could equally be, in that dim light, where colours were sucked out of everything. Where a person's features twisted, mended. Looked different. HuaiSang saved them regardless, as if enacting a scene already written.

But, it was already written, wasn't it?

Sighing, the cultivator shook his head. This truly was unusual and he wasn't sure what to think of it. For once his night didn't tempt his suicidal thoughts, nor did it make him want to cry rivers. But, this was out of order. There was no prelude to this dream, no reason for it to appear - at least none which he could see. This, was worrying. Despite the desire for excitement in his life, HuaiSang didn't like things he couldn't figure out.

There seemed to be lots of those lately.


End file.
